


Baby, Give Me Something

by Decemberangel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Deucalion (Teen Wolf) Being an Asshole, Deucalion (Teen Wolf) is Not Blind, F/M, Good Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sugar Baby Stiles Stilinski, Sugar Daddy Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decemberangel/pseuds/Decemberangel
Summary: Stiles has come to realize that concessions need to be made in order to make things happen. He's no stranger to compromise and in this day and age, a young man has a number of options to meet his needs. He didn't particularly enjoy the idea of being a sugar baby but it paid the bills and it allowed him to focus on his schoolwork. It was a win-win really. He didn't expect to be scooped up by a daddy he didn't particularly enjoy but that was the concession. That was the compromise. After three years of working with the man, he's become complacent but now he's graduating in a short period of time and things are changing.Stiles might have finally have an out.
Relationships: Deucalion/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 42
Kudos: 254





	1. In the Beginning

Stiles stares at the blue tic suit laid out on his bed with disdain. The suit wasn’t expensive. No more than one hundred and fifty dollars at the nearest Men’s Warehouse. A starchy white button down shirt with matching blue tic polka dots lays beside the suit and Stiles loathes the damn thing. The suit is uncomfortably tight, at least the pants are. That’s how his daddy likes it, however, and he would do well to remember that he is nothing more than hired arm candy and he will wear whatever his daddy wants him to wear to these formal functions. Tonight's dinner isn’t the fanciest function that he’s ever been to. For fancier feasts, Stiles’ daddy would rent a nicer suit for the boy to wear. Despite being hired arm candy, he wasn’t being paid that much and the benefits were far and few between but tolerable by most sugar baby standards. 

Stiles sighs, takes a deep breath and dresses quickly. _Just get through tonight_. Stiles hates these functions. He basically gets to stand for hours on end, eat high priced but inedible fancy food far greater than his palette can take, be ridiculed by most homophobic assholes at the function and his least favorite of all: be lectured by his daddy when its all over on all the things he should do better for the next occasion.

_Don’t be a smart ass._

_I don’t pay you to talk to anyone._

_Your shoes were not shined properly, why did I buy you that shoe shine kit if you are not going to use it?_

_Don’t be such a child, they’re not going to serve chicken nuggets._

_Just stand there and look pretty._

If the damn man wasn’t paying for his tuition, Stiles would not consider this deal any longer. However, it’s mutually beneficial even if the man tears at Stiles’ self esteem whenever possible. There aren’t many other options for a male sugar baby in the city given Stiles’ looks. His hands are too big, he’s too tall, and he doesn’t find himself to be particularly good company. His daddy often reminds him of these facts. Stiles doesn’t have to pay for college and his hours as a tutor at the library keep him comfortable as well as the little gifts that his daddy gets him every now and again. Though meager, the gifts he’s been given have been handy for pawning or re gifting. Scott loves all the nice watches. The fancier leather shoes are good to sell online, just like the shaving kits, concert tickets to bands Stiles doesn’t even enjoy, and other sundry items he doesn’t need more than food and heat. 

Stiles lives alone in a shitty apartment building close to campus where all the other seniors live, managing to get by on ramen and hope alone. Stiles is so close to the finish line he can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel but he’s still got an entire year ahead of him. He’s been a sugar baby since his freshman year, only entertaining phone calls and conversations over dinner but he met his daddy at the start of his sophomore year when he needed more money to get by. He never told his father what he was doing, of course, but he also didn’t have the heart to stress his father’s pocket book any longer. Stiles figures himself lucky. He could have ended up in a worse situation with a worse benefactor. 

His daddy isn’t abusive physically, he pays for Stiles’ education, and doesn’t call on Stiles for too much. All the fancy dinners, meetings, and social engagements around town are nothing compared to suffering through sex with the man on a regular basis. His daddy doesn’t particularly enjoy having sex with Stiles and only does it when his regular at the gentlemen’s club downtown is unavailable. It doesn’t happen too often, but Stiles does enjoy the extra money when it does happen. On those days he tries not to let himself feel like a prostitute but when his daddy hands him a couple extra hundred dollars it feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest.

Tonight is just another night for Stiles. He hates these dinners but he’s happy to be getting a quality meal and some company. He sits on his neatly made bed and pulls out his shoe shine kit. He doesn’t feel like being ridiculed for dull shoes again. He glances at his old watch and groans. His daddy will be picking him up in ten minutes. Stiles quickly styles his hair and pulls on his matching bow tie, gulping at the feeling of it around his neck. It feels like a collar.

He slips his phone and wallet into his pocket along with his keys. He gives a glance at his black Glock, considering the thought of taking it with him but shoots down the idea. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket giving him the signal that his daddy is waiting outside for him. _Here we go_ , he thinks bitterly. He pushes his glasses farther up his nose and groans as he locks his door and moves quickly to the waiting town car. The stark black SUV looks out of place in the parking lot of the run down apartment complex. It’s quiet but Stiles knows that some of his neighbors are looking out of their windows and there’s judgement there. Stiles does his best to hold his head up high and ignore the stares as he gets into the car. He smells his daddy’s strong scented cologne that burns his nostrils and tries to breathe trough his mouth.

“Good evening, Stiles.” His daddy’s voice is quiet and his eyes pierce through Stiles. He feels like he’s being scrutinized and all he hopes is that he meets his daddy’s expectations.

“Fine, am I presentable?” Stiles asks submissively.

“Adequate.” Is all he says. Stiles nods and resolves to take it as a win. “How is your school work?”

“Coming along.” Is all the boy offers. He’s never been too forthcoming with his daddy about things outside of their arrangement and it never seemed to bother either of them.

“Good.” They ride in silence to some five star hotel with a massive convention room filled with lawyers, judges, various benefactors and a few oddities. It’s not a formal event but it’s still glitzy and Stiles feels under dressed despite his daddy having chosen what he would wear that night. He takes his daddy’s arm and walks into the event, mouth closed, “Tonight's dinner is for a benefit regarding underprivileged schools here in New York.”

“The usual drill?” Stiles asks quietly.

“Yes. No speaking unless spoken to, firm hand shakes and do mind your manners.” Stiles rolls his eyes and tries not to hate that British accent. He nods and follows his daddy’s lead. He’d been to many of these dinners in the past and he’s used to the routine by now.

“Mr. Harrington, a pleasure to see you again.” His daddy walks up to another man who looks just like every other bald, middle aged lawyer in the room. Extending his hand, he is introduced next, “This is my date.”

“Good to see you as well, Deucalion.” The man smiles and happily shakes Stiles’ hand following his daddy’s.

“It certainly has been a while. How is the firm?”

Stiles ceases to follow the small talk. He’d never been one to shoot the shit but he’s used to going to his happy place while his daddy networks. He is toted around the room, shaking hands, smiling and bearing the small talk. His stomach begins to growl too loudly for his daddy to ignore and it becomes a rather embarrassing nuisance.

“Stiles, go and eat. Find our seats and wait for me there, there are a few others I need to speak to then I will join you.” His daddy whispers in his ear with a disappointed tone. Stiles has no doubt that he’ll end up hearing about this later. Stiles knows better than to argue and he does as he’s told. It’s honestly a relief being away from the man.

He makes himself small, he’s not on anyone’s radar and it becomes easier to weave in and out of the crowd towards the food. He happily receives a plate and begins the trek down the food line. The caterers offer fish, chicken, or steak. Stiles chooses steak. Potatoes, salad or asparagus. Stiles chooses a salad. Chocolate cake, cheesecake, or a brownie. Stiles chooses the cheesecake. He takes his heavy plate and navigates his way through the tables and quickly finds his name plate beside Deucalions. Stiles is just happy to finally be seated. 

There are many people already seated, waiting for the presentation and Stiles is only one of them. His table has five other placements and he does his best to ignore the others. He checks his phone and sees that Scott texted him a while ago. Nothing of consequence, Scott just needs help with picking out an outfit for his date with his new girlfriend, Kira. Stiles quickly offers his advice and offers good luck. As he turns back to his food, Stiles becomes aware of his posture. Straightening his back, he lifts the silver fork and knife, hyper aware of his table manners. He turns all of his focus to what he’s doing and suddenly wonders when the last time he took his meds. 

“I apologize for ruining your focus, young man, but I just had to know your name.” Stiles is startled out of his actions and nearly drops his fork. He turns to see the man sitting beside him, a man dressed in possibly one of the most expensive suits Stiles has ever seen. It’s tight and forgiving, flattering and impossibly well tailored. The man’s smirk looks like it’s permanently etched on his face. Like its been there since birth. Stiles takes a quick look around and sees that his daddy is still speaking to someone, his back turned.

“Stiles Stilinski.” He says almost timidly. The man’s smirk turns down slightly before turning into a quiet smile.

“Peter Hale. I’m seated beside you, it seems. That’s good, you’re looking far too lonely.” The man sits with his bourbon and plate of steak. “What kind of date would leave you so unaccompanied?”

“He’s still making the rounds.” Stiles supplies, lightly pushing his salad around on his plate.

“What is a fine young man such as yourself doing at a benefit dinner for the New York Inner City Education League?” Peter asks. 

_Curiosity killed the cat_ , Stiles thinks to himself. The man, though entirely too gorgeous to possibly have anything to do with these stuffy old men, seems to have only pure intentions at making small talk. . .Stiles knows that these type of people always want _more._ He’s always been wary of his daddy and the company he keeps, he’d been burned before by naivety. Peter Hale will be no different. 

“I’m just the army candy.” Stiles shrugs with a good-natured grin. Peter had spotted the boy in his god awful blue suit the moment he’d stepped into the drab convention center, and had been captured immediately by the boy’s adorable features. Upon getting a closer look at the boy and the man who’s arm he was on, he’d felt repulsed. Deucalion is a scoundrel to say the least and he’d left a bad impression on Peter at their first meeting and every encounter since. However, his _arm candy_ as the boy put it, was another thing entirely. The boy’s stature is greater than the other boys he’d seen Deucalion toting around to social functions in the past. The past boys had never been quite to Peter’s taste until this young man walked in. It’s the first time that Peter had ever felt jealous of Deucalion. The slightly upturned nose, dotted moles like constellations, chestnut hair and bright whiskey eyes were alluring and Peter felt himself being drawn in. Of course, the closer he got the more enraged he became.

Peter could see the blank look on the boy’s face, the forced smiles and polite greetings, he could see the boy struggling in Deucalion’s smothering hold. He’d long since learned Deucalion’s style of management and his style of managing personal relationships. Peter had had many sugar babies in his day, over the years none had stuck around long enough to keep Peter’s interests and he’d become adept at spotting them. This boy is undoubtedly a sugar baby. Though Deucalion seems to have made a contract with the boy, he didn’t seem to be particularly happy about the arrangement. It burned Peter to see the boy go rigid at Deucalion’s touch as he dismissed the boy. Seeing him sitting alone, a bright light no doubt, put out by his daddy’s callousness pissed Peter off to no end.

“It’s a shame your Deucalion’s arm candy,” Peter sighed, “I find the man intolerable, myself. However, you might have a different experience with the man.” Stiles’ eyes widen slightly and he is shocked to learn that another human being doesn’t like Deucalion. Most of the people he’s met so far had nothing but glowing praise for the man. 

“He’s alright.” Is all the boy offers. Peter’s interest is piqued. Despite seeing the obvious discomfort, the boy is unlikely to relinquish details about his daddy and that type of loyalty is scarce among sugar babies.

“Yes, we’ve traveled in similar circles often enough that I’ve gotten to know him differently than you have, I’m sure.” Peter takes a sip of his drink and leans back. “You’re quite young to be in this type of setting. Are you attending college?”

“Columbia. I’m a psychology major.” Stiles answers briskly, feeling like he’s being interrogated. Peter can see that the boy is getting agitated so he decides to back off, he leans away from the boy, giving him the illusion of space.

“Wonderful, I’m an NYU alum but we can’t all be perfect I suppose.” Peter jokes with a soft smile, hoping to bring the boy into a playful banter. The strategy seems to work as the boy relaxes slightly and smiles a little.

“Please, NYU can’t compare to Columbia. We’ve got the best undergrad and we don’t just accept people who buy their way in,” Stiles barbs with a smirk. Peter chuckles and sees a bit of fire in those eyes.

“I suppose.” Peter rolls is eyes, “I was pre-law at NYU and finished out at Harvard Law so I guess I can’t be too possessive.”

“Harvard, huh? That’s a pretty impressive pedigree.” Stiles sighs feeling just a little bit of anxiety from his own situation, “I’m still throwing around ideas for grad school and Harvard's on that list. I’m not too enthusiastic, the requirements are extensive and I’m not sure how I’ll pay for grad school anyways.”

Peter can see the stress the topic incites and he knows that stress all too well. He had been anxious about grad school as well but he had been in different circumstances than Stiles.

“Harvard isn’t as mighty as you may think. I have no doubt you’ll find the right program for you.” Peter assures. 

“Maybe.”

“Stiles,” Deucalion’s displeasure is evident in his voice, he’d seen his baby talking to Peter Hale of all people and did not enjoy the smile he saw on his boy’s face. The moment Stiles heard Deucalion’s voice he shut down entirely and seemed to go completely void. Peter did not seeing the boy go from smiling and vocal to completely silent and expressionless. Peter’s glare burns through Deucalion but the smirk on his face doesn’t seem to register the danger in Peter’s eyes. “Mr. Hale. A pleasure to see you again.”

“Deucalion.” Peter regards with an icy tone. He turns away from Stiles and his date to eat his dinner. It suddenly tasted like dirt.

Stiles sees the unhappiness in Deucalion’s expression and knows that he’ll be spoken to later. It’s not something he looks forward to. Stiles doesn’t pay attention to the presentation and goes about the night on autopilot, clapping when the crowd claps and does not pick up any information on what they’re talking about. Stiles sees Deucalion write a check at the end of the night and rolls his eyes at the amount. It’s generous, but not so generous as to inspire any form of admiration. It’s the usual amount that Deucalion gives to charities that host these dinners. Peter left the occasion quickly, before anyone else had left so as to beat the traffic but he made a point to say goodbye to Stiles. Deucalion was not pleased. Soon enough, it’s midnight and Stiles is silent beside Deucalion on an incredibly uncomfortable drive home. 

“Stiles, we’ve talked about this multiple times now,” Deucalion sighs like this is a common occurrence. Stiles disappointing him. “At these functions, you’re not to speak to anyone.”

“I know,” Stiles sighs, “I’m sorry, daddy. It won’t happen again.”

“Yes, well I’m afraid that our arrangement will be far more tenuous moving forward. You are approaching your graduation and I’m afraid with these incidents happening on a more regular basis that I am going to begin looking elsewhere for my needs.” Stiles feels sick. He knows that he’s getting older, he’ll be twenty-two in a few short months and he’ll be moving on for a graduate program. He knows that he’s been with Deucalion for three years now and that the man is not one to tolerate disobedience. 

“Noted.” Is all Stiles can muster. He’s unsure of where they stand in their agreement, but Stiles is happy knowing that he’s had enough saved that he can pay for the final semester of his schooling and that this semester is already paid for so there is no way Deucalion can take it back. As they pull into Stiles’ apartment complex, the boy had never been so excited to see the peeling paint and dingy coach lights.

“Goodnight, Stiles.” Deucalion’s voice is emotionless and the boy is clearly dismissed for the evening, “I’ll be in touch.”

Stiles nods and exits the car feeling more like a prostitute than ever. Despite not having sex with the man, Stiles still feels used beyond what he’d like to admit to himself. He feels cheap and dirty. He’d like to say he didn’t speed walk back into his apartment but he’d be lying. The moment the door closes, he feels safe. The scalding hot shower that leaves red blotches over his skin is all he can do to feel cleansed.


	2. Connections

Stiles didn’t sleep well for the next week and a half. He’d been running on nothing but coffee and pure power of will. He had thoroughly annoyed his study group with his jittering and one of his professors pulled him aside to ask if everything was alright. He had received a text from Deucalion stating that his meager allowance was not going to be given until further notice. It was annoying to Stiles but he knew it was coming. He’d planned for this to happen a long time ago and he knew he’d be able to get by on his savings. 

Stiles had always been good at managing his money. Probably a byproduct of managing a household after his mother passed. Deucalion is a bastard and Stiles didn’t expect anything less from the man. Stiles is sitting in the library, three books cracked open as he works on a paper for his honor’s program. His fingers are beginning to cramp, he’s been working for almost four hours straight. A bagel and a cup of black coffee from the honor’s lounge is all that keeps him going now. He’d gotten out of his classes earlier that day and he didn’t feel like going back to his lonely apartment till dinner time. Stiles looks down and sees that it’s nearly five thirty and sighs, it’s dinner time. He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes, feeling the weight of his exhaustion. 

“Stiles, right?” A soft voice brings Stiles out of his thoughts and he looks up to see what’s his name from the benefit dinner, “Pardon me for intruding.”

“No it’s uh, it’s alright. I was just staring at the same paragraph for who knows how tong.” Stiles chuckles dryly. He closes his books, bookmarking the pages he needs and begins clearing the table, “It’s getting pretty late, I should be getting home.”

“Yes, how long have you been here?” 

“Couple hours.” Stiles shrugs, “Beats going home.”

“It’s good to run into you again. Honestly, I was hoping we’d cross paths.” The man sits down across the table and Stiles remembers his name.

“What can I do for you, Peter? I don’t see many high ranking attorneys traveling campus very often.” Stiles remarks. Peter smiles and adjusts his suit. He looks just as expensive as he did the night of the benefit dinner.

“I was hoping I might take you to dinner, actually? I’ve been on campus speaking with prospective law students all day and I’m pretty hungry.” Peter offers the young man who is clearly exhausted and hungry. The smell of stale coffee clings to the boy and it makes Peter’s nose itch. Stiles considers the offer and he considers his hungry belly. He’s definitely wary of the sudden interest being expressed by the older man and his baggage is keeping him from jumping right in. “I know a great Italian place close to campus.”

“Uh, yeah, why not.” Stiles sighs, seeing that Peter isn’t going to go away. A free dinner doesn’t sound too bad anyways and the thought of leftovers makes his belly happy. “I just gotta call an Uber and I’ll meet you there.”

“That’s not necessary, I’d be happy to drive you if you like.” Peter offers. Stiles knows that it’s a better offer and he’s not sure the man is going to kill him on the drive over.

“Alright.” Stiles collects his things and looks at his phone once again. No more texts from Deucalion. 

“Wonderful,” Peter smiled. When the older man had been called by a former professor of his to do a Q&A with prospective law students at Columbia, he’d nearly said no and chalked it up as an event that he wouldn’t make time for but quickly reconsidered when he remembered the young man he met at the benefit dinner and thought he would take a shot at seeing the boy again. It was just lucky that Peter saw the boy sitting at a table in the library on his way back to his car. Peter decided it was fate. The older man escorted the boy to his car while explaining further his connection to a law professor at the college. 

“He’d written me an excellent recommendation to my first law firm I’d applied to be a junior associate. He’s the reason I am who I am today. It seemed only fair that I return every year to do these Q&A events. Although I haven’t attended in some time.” Peter admits, “I do think that today might be my lucky day.”

Stiles gives a bright smile as he considers what Peter says and slips into an expensive looking car. It’s in pristine condition and Peter happily takes his book bag to put it in the trunk of the car. There’s no room in the front seat of the car.

“What were you working on before I interrupted?” Peter asks, hoping to get the boy to open up to him.

“I’m in the honor’s program and I have a ten page paper due in two weeks. I’m trying to get out of the research stage.” Stiles sighs, “It’s a difficult subject I’ve chosen for myself.”

“Which subject have you chosen?”

“Correctional psychology and its implications in criminology.” Stiles laughs, “It’s a killer.”

“That’s quite impressive.” Peter says, honestly impressed at the intelligence of the boy sitting beside him. He’s met a number of psychologists over the years and criminal psychologists are a breed all their own, “What got you interested in the topic?”

“My dad. He’s the sheriff back home and I pretty much grew up around cops and criminals.” Stiles thinks fondly about his father.  _ I should call him soon _ .

“You said your last name was Stilinski?” Stiles nods, “Is John Stilinski your father? The sheriff at Beacon Hills?” The boy’s eyes narrow at the connection and he’s suddenly suspicious of the older man.

“Yeah, how did you-”

“No need to be suspicious. I do think it’s quite a coincidence but I grew up in Beacon Hills, it’s my home town.” Peter chuckles at the amazing connection, “My sister is the mayor there as well.”

“No way. . .Hale!” Stiles’ eyes widen and suddenly he’s smiling, “You’re a Hale, Talia Hale is your sister! That’s amazing, you know I went to school with Cora? Derek was a few years ahead of me too.”

“That’s incredible,” Peter’s wrapping his mind around the unique connection and the amazing possibility of meeting the son of the local sheriff from the town he grew up in. The odds are astounding, “John is a good man, my sister speaks highly of him.”

“Yeah, my dad likes her too, she’s been a great mayor.” Stiles laughs brilliantly then and the sounds fills Peter will warmth, he can’t help but chuckle as well. The boy’s emotions are contagious, “What a small world.”

“It really is,” Peter nods, “You’re a long ways from home.”

“Yeah, I got a good deal from Columbia and took it,” Stiles shrugs, “I wanted to leave home too, just for a little while. I still go back home as often as I can, but the program here was too good to pass up.”

“I felt the same when I left California.” Peter nods, “Although, the prospect of going back home is still on my mind.”

“Yeah, I’m looking pretty closely at going back to California for grad school, I miss home a lot.” Stiles smiles. Stiles feels like he can let his guard down with Peter, feeling a kindred spirit in the older man. It doesn’t take long to get to the restaurant and it looks like it’s a bit fancier than Stiles is used to. It makes him just a tad uncomfortable but he doesn’t have the courage to deny Peter.

“Tagliani’s has the best carbonara in the state.” Peter is practically salivating at the thought of the food he’s about to enjoy. 

“I’ve always been more of a tortellini kinda guy,” Stiles’ stomach growls and he’s eager to eat. All he’s had today is a pop tart and a bagel.

“You must be starving, living off of the college kid diet?” Peter chuckles.

“You have no idea,” Stiles laughs, “Things are tight but I’m making it work.”

“Well, order whatever you like. Order extra if you want, leftovers are important to a college student.” When the waiter comes to take their order and Stiles turns down ordering an appetizer in favor of being a cheap date, Peter happily orders focaccia with prosciutto, a plate of saltimocca and bruschetta. Stiles’ eyes widen like dinner plates at the order.

“At the risk of being too forward, I was hoping that we might be able to treat ourselves tonight.” Peter gives a saucy wink at his young companion and it earns him an easy smile. 

“Sounds good to me,” Stiles doesn’t get to treat himself often if ever and if this man is willing to spend a shit ton of money on a dinner that will probably feed Stiles for the next few days then who is he to argue?

When the plates arrive, Stiles is practically drooling and he stops talking long enough to scarf down all the food that was put in front of him. He never ate this well unless he was at an event with Deucalion. Peter eats slowly, watching the ravenous boy in front of him but feeling nothing but burning disdain for his situation. A well kept and happy baby is never this hungry, never this tired or stressed. It makes Peter angry beyond belief but satisfied as the boy fills himself. When Stiles begins to slow down, he recounts stories from his childhood home and they relate to each other through shared memories and places in their home town. 

They talk about school, their lives and dreams, and everything in between. Stiles has a massive bowl of tortellini placed in front of him and he can barely make a dent before he’s so full, his ribs are aching. Peter learns a lot about Stiles. Mostly because Stiles doesn’t stop talking. He enjoys the boy’s wit and charm. Stiles is sharp tongued and his intelligence rivals Peter’s. The older man is quickly seeing that Stiles is someone to treasure and the possibilities are truly endless. They spend hours at that table, talking and laughing. Almost too soon, Stiles yawns and Peter asks for the check. He knows the boy must be exhausted and despite feeling sad at the thought of the night ending, he wants to get the boy home.

“Just a little warning, I don’t live in the greatest of places.” Stiles admits. 

“It’s alright, Stiles. I used to live in a crappy apartment when I was in undergrad too.” Peter soothed. The boy nods and tries really hard not to fall asleep as they drive along but with all the food he’d just eaten and the soul warming conversation, he’s feeling sleepy. 

“I had a really fun time tonight, Peter. Thank you so much for dinner and for talking with me.” Stiles fiddles with the edges of his frayed and old flannel shirt. Peter finds it entirely too endearing.

“You’re welcome, I also had a great evening with you.” Peter pulls into the gross looking apartment complex and cringes. “I would love to do this again soon.” Stiles’ eyes widen again, he didn’t think he was that interesting and he was shocked that someone wanted to hang out with him. 

“Sure, that would be fun.” Stiles says. “That’s my building, right there.” As the car comes to a stop, the boy is unsure of what to do next but he takes the receipt from tonight’s dinner out of Peter’s pocket and scribbles his number down on it with the pen he stashes in his shirt pocket. As he hands it to Peter, the older man can’t help but watch the boy’s long fingers as he writes his number down. The boy is perfect to Peter.

“I’ll text you tonight,” Peter tells him. “Now go and get some sleep, you look like you’re about to keel over.”

Stiles nods and gives Peter a bright smile. He grabs all of his books and his bag, leaving Peter to watch as he makes it into his home. Stiles quickly sets his books down to look out of his peephole. Peter didn’t leave. . .he waiting until Stiles was safely inside his home before leaving. It made Stiles smile, Deucalion never waited for him to get inside. He’d always sped out of the parking lot the moment Stiles shut the door as if the decrepit nature of the complex would pass on to him. Stiles decided that he would take a shower and he smiled at seeing the boxes of leftovers stacked in his fridge. He felt cared for and secure. It made him feel warm. After his shower he decided a little bit of Hulu would help him fall asleep and as he lays in bed re-watching Adventure Time episodes, his phone pings. 

_ Let’s do dinner again soon, _ it reads. 

_ I look forward to it _ , Stiles replies. He saves Peter’s phone number in his phone and tucks it away, happily looking forward to the next time he gets to see Peter Hale. Feeling connected to him this evening helped him feel just a little less homesick and like he still had strong ties to him some town. He had forgotten how much he missed his home, how much he missed his dad, but talking with Peter about the town brought out all the feelings he had been ignoring.  _ I’ll call dad tomorrow _ , Stiles tells himself. He thinks about going home at Christmas but shakes his head when he begins to feel anxiety at not being able to afford it. He’s not sure he’ll have a sugar daddy long enough to be able to pay for that kind of visit. Stiles chooses to put it out of his mind for now, forget about it, and focus on the wonderful evening he had and the fullness of his belly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone! I am really excited about this fic and I'm hoping to put out chapters regularly. I hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think!


	3. Diamond in the Rough

Stiles is rushing to get to class, he’s horribly late and he’s mad at himself for not managing his time well enough. He hates being late for class. To be honest, the entire day has been a struggle. He spilled coffee on his only clean shirt because he didn’t have time to get to a laundromat that week, he got stuck waiting for his prescription at the pharmacy because he needed adderall to be able to focus in class and finish that stupid paper that he’s still in the outlining phase, and the bottom of his favorite shoes started to separate and now Stiles needs new shoes. 

He manages to make it into class being little over ten minutes late and he’s grateful is professor chooses not to say anything about it. Although he’s sure that Wilks didn’t say anything because of how pitiful he’s sure he looks. Wet, smelly coffee still clear on his shirt and most likely a wild look on his face. He happily sits and takes his notes. He works on autopilot through all his classes, forming a plan to get his life together that night. Laundry, dishes, a quick clean up. . .all that needed to happen. At the end of his day he begins the walk towards his home and groans at the sight of his apartment. It looks like a tornado of clothes passed through his little studio apartment. He quickly goes about scooping up clothes and stuffing them in his hamper and trash in the bin. It’s quick and easy clean up, in a matter of minutes the monotony of running the dishwasher and vacuuming his little flat. He hyper focuses on a stain in his area rug, unhappy that he now has to purchase stain remover. He almost misses his phone ringing. Peter’s name flashes on his phone and the boy scrambles to answer.

“Peter!” Stiles cringes at how loud he shouts, “Sorry. How are you?”

_ “I’m alright, how are you, Stiles?” _ Peter’s voice fills Stiles with eager energy and he’s excited to hear from the man.

“I’m good!” Stiles says.

_ “That’s good to hear, I was calling to see if you would like to accompany me to dinner? I quite enjoyed your company and I’d like to spend more time with you.” _ Peter offers and Stiles feels rather unhappy that he has to say no.

“I’d love to, Peter, but I can’t. I have to get to a laundromat or I’ll be going to class in my underwear tomorrow. I can’t leave my clothes unsupervised too cuz the weenies at the laundromat will take my clothes.” Stiles feels like crying because he really wants to talk to Peter again. They had gone to dinner almost a week ago and he’s dying for good conversation, to feel that connection again, and to interact with Peter.

_ “Dear boy, why don’t I pick you and your laundry up and we can come back to my apartment for dinner. I’ll order dinner and you can do your laundry.”  _ Peter suggests with a hopeful tone. The older man had waited this long to contact Stiles again to spend time with the boy. He hopes that Stiles takes the offer, that he can have Stiles in his space and hopefully move things along in a direction where he can have the boy for himself.

“Are you sure?” Stiles is hesitant, “I don’t want to put you out.”

_ “Darling, don’t worry at all. I wouldn’t offer my space if I didn’t want you to take full advantage of what I offer.” _ Stiles can practically hear Peter’s smirk _ , “Besides, I want to be in your presence, I find you to be perfect company.” _

“Well, far be it for me to withhold my presence,” Stiles smirks, “I’d love to have dinner with you again.”

_ “Wonderful, I’ll pick you up in ten minutes. Chinese take out alright?” _ Stiles can hear the jingling of keys as if Peter is already on his way out the door.

“Sounds good to me. Can I have sweet and sour pork, please?” Stiles asks hopefully.

_ “Stiles, you can have whatever you want. I’ll put the order in now. I’ll see you soon, darling.” _ Stiles gives a quick goodbye, feeling his cheeks heat up at the endearments Peter calls him. It fills his belly with warmth and as quickly as he can, he goes to shower and slip on the only clean clothes he has left. He hates wearing formal or fancy clothes but it’s all he has now. He slips into the most comfortable slacks he has and a black button down that’s soft to the touch. He quickly runs his hair under the towel one more time before gathering his things. He checks his phone and right at the screen wakes up, there’s a knock on his door. Stiles’ eyes widen and he goes to look through the peep hole. Peter is standing outside his door looking like a dream. He’s in a soft looking white v-neck and jeans. 

“Hey,” Stiles smiles, opening the door to his home. _God, he smells so good_ , Stiles thinks he could swim in this man's cologne. Peter loves the boy's smile. He quickly scans the small apartment and his anger is only fueled. There isn’t a lot in the apartment to make it personal and it feels cold. He doesn't know how Stiles can possibly live here, it feels so lifeless and he's eager to leave after only a few moments of being there.

“Are you ready to go, darling?”

“Yeah, just got this hamper. Are you sure it’s alright that I use your machines to do my laundry?” Stiles’ eyes are like pools of whiskey and Peter feels like he’s falling into them. They’re almost comically wide.

“Of course, I’d hate for you to be mingling with all those random people at the laundromat.” Peter grabs the hamper for Stiles, “Besides, I have better detergent at home.”

“That sounds pretty good to me,” Stiles practically skips to Peter’s expensive car. They speed off towards the upper east side of Manhattan. Stiles used to love going to Central Park. Peter asks Stiles about his day and Stiles confesses that it wasn’t his best day ever.

“I didn’t do my laundry because I’ve been stuck researching. I spilled coffee on my only clean shirt so I had to go all day with a smelly shirt and I had a hard time getting my pills.” Stiles groans, “Which I still haven’t taken because I’m horrible at remembering to take them. In case you haven’t noticed yet, I got ADHD real bad.”

“I’m sorry you had a bad day,” Peter says, “But hopefully you’ll have a good night.”

“It’s already lookin’ pretty good,” Stiles flirts. He immediately blushes feeling a little taken back by his own thoughtless flirtation. Peter seems to like it, as the older man laughs and throws a saucy wink at Stiles. He loves the blush that blooms over the boys face and finds himself wanting to see more. He wants to know how far that blush goes. Peter wonders if he spanks this boy’s beautifully round buttocks they’ll turn the same color.

“Oh my God. . .do you really live here?” Stiles’ eyes practically bulge out of his head.

“In the penthouse, yes.” Peter nods, “I live rather luxuriously.”

“No shit,” Stiles walks with Peter into the building and he feels suddenly very insecure. He’s got his broken shoes on, he looks nice but it’s the nicest outfit he owns and he still feels low rent. Stiles curls in on himself, feeling like a charity case as Peter leads him into the elevator, carrying his laundry basket. Stiles feels hot and he feels like he’s going to throw up. He begins thinking about getting out of there. Peter can hear the boy’s breathing begin to come harsher and faster. 

“Stiles, darling, relax.” Peter brings the boy into a hug, stroking the boy’s back and laying a firm grip on the back of his neck. Stiles freezes almost instantly and his eyes flutter. Peter’s strong fingers massage the back of Stiles’ neck, holding him in a warm embrace that fills him so entirely with heat and he can’t stop the tremor running down his spine. “You’ve had a hard go of things, but let me treat you like a prince and you’ll feel so much better.”

“I-I don’t think-”

“It doesn’t matter to me how you must view yourself right now, and the only thing I wish to do for you is take care of you like you should have been taken care of.” Peter’s hand around Stiles’ neck gently urges the boy to lift his chin and make eye contact with him. “You’ve been sorely mistreated by scum and I’d like to rectify that if you let me.”

Stiles has to clear his throat a little bit and his eye lids felt far too heavy. He manages a nod and follows the older man into his apartment without another issue. Stiles’ panic worries Peter and he sees that the boy has been without proper treatment for far too long. It’s only increased Peter’s desperation to help Stiles. The penthouse is beautiful, and it’s probably the most extravagant home he’s ever been in. The electric fireplace is surrounded by numerous bookshelves and it’s so cozy that all Stiles wants to do now is curl up on the black leather sofas with a book and a blanket. It’s dark in the sitting room, the only lights being the fireplace and a few lamps creating a beautiful ambiance. The kitchen is massive and it’s brightly lit. The space is clean and bright, it looks like a spaceship if Stiles were being honest. The entire space is pristine and he’s a little jealous of the amount of space that Peter has. 

“I’ll show you to the laundry room,” Peter motions for Stiles to follow and the boy is helpless to nod and continue on. The laundry room isn’t large but just like the rest of the apartment, it’s beautiful. The machines are high tech and Stiles has to ask Peter to show him how to use them. Which he happily does. The laundry detergent that Peter has smells divine and Stiles can only guess how much the detergent costs. Peter’s phone pings just as he finishes telling Stiles how to use the robot machines.

“The food is here, I’ll go set it up.” Peter smiles, leaving Stiles to do his thing.

Stiles pretty much dumps his entire hamper into the machine, following Peter’s instructions and hurried out to go eat. His stomach had been growling and he wanted some sweet and sour pork, dammit. Peter hands Stiles a plate filled with steaming, sweet smelling food and motions for him to sit at the bar.

“Thanks for dinner, Peter.” Stiles says before digging into his food. His dad taught him good manners.

“You’re so welcome, sweet boy.” Peter turns to his massive stainless steel refrigerator and looks through it, “I’m afraid I don’t carry soda. I have seltzer water, wine, and bourbon.”

“Water is fine,” Stiles laughs, “And seltzer water? How old are you, seventy-two?”

“I’ll have you know that seltzer water is far better for you than soda pop.” Peter rolls his eyes, “I won’t listen to the recommendations from a young whippersnapper like yourself who doesn’t know health culture.” Stiles laughs and holds is hands up in surrender.

“This place is amazing,” Stiles says, “How do you get any work done in a place like this?”

“I’m rarely here, actually. I usually just come home and sleep. My work schedule is rather rigorous.” Peter sighs, “A shame really. My maids are here more than I am.”

“You live here all alone?” Peter nods, “Such a big place to be alone in. I’d get lonely quick.”

“Yes, I do as well but occasionally I have good company.” Peter smiles. The two men sit and talk more about anything and everything. Conversation is stimulating and hilarious. Peter loves the flailing limbs and quick retorts. He feels challenged by the younger man and he loves that the boy never backs down from his barbs. 

They migrate to the sitting room and Stiles is awestruck by the large bay windows that give an amazing view of Central Park. The night is busy, as it always is in New York and he can’t help but watch the activity on the street.

“It’s different from Beacon Hills, isn’t it?” Peter lounges on is sofa, openly admiring the view in front of him. Stiles is nothing short of beautiful and in this light, the man wants nothing more than to take him apart.

“When I first moved here, I couldn’t sleep for a week because of the constant noise.” Stiles laughs, “Beacon Hills is so sleepy, then when I went home, I couldn’t sleep because I needed the noise.”

“Strange how accustom to noise one can get. Whenever I travel I have to listen to sounds of the city in order to fall asleep.” Peter wishes the boy would sit beside him, “New York has been my home for almost a decade now, it’s hard to imagine being anywhere else.”

“Would you ever want to go back to Beacon Hills?” Stiles asks, curling his feet under him.

“Possibly, but it’d have to be under very specific circumstances. Are you comfortable?” Peter changes the subject easily, “I can’t imagine those pants are very comfy.”

“They’re alright, I waited too long to do my laundry. My sweats are in the wash now.” Stiles shrugs, “So, have you read all these books?”

“Most of them, there are a few trashy romance novels scattered in here that my nieces left when they stayed here a while back.” Peter chuckles, “I do spend a lot of time reading, but a lot of these books are legal texts.”

“Wow that sounds really. . .boring.” Stiles smirks.

“It is, really really boring,” Peter chuckles, “But it’s my job and research is part of it all. It can be very satisfying.”

“So you’re a defense attorney?” Peter nods, “Damn, I was starting to like you.” Peter laughs deeply.

“That’s right, your father is a sheriff, I’m sure you’ve had bad experiences with defense attorneys.”

“Yeah, we don’t really enjoy interacting with  _ your kind _ ,” Stiles winks. 

“So sassy,” Peter chuckles, “I did corporate law for a while but I grew bored of the monotony. I like the challenge of defending people, whether they be innocent or not.” 

“How noble of you,” Stiles remarks, “How do you do it when you know they’re guilty?”

“I’m a big believer in karma,” Peter sighs, “Everyone is entitled to defense and it’s my job to do the best I can for my client. That doesn’t mean I enjoy every assignment but my firm allows me to pick and choose. I also do a lot of pro-bono cases for those who can’t afford a good defense. There’s a balance.”

“You think the guilty get what they deserve?”

“I think that the  _ truly _ guilty always get what they deserve,” Peter answers firmly, “But it is not my job to determine what someone does or doesn’t deserve. I can only spin a good story, do what I can to protect my client, and in the end the jury will decide.”

“Sounds like you’ve figured out how to sleep at night.” Stiles says calculatingly.

“When you’ve been doing this job as long as I have, you learn how to figure it out. You learn that the higher power will always win.” Peter smiles, “Anyways, I know for a fact that you have a massive sweet tooth. I happen to have a wonderful assortment of sweets that I hope you enjoy to the fullest.”

“My laundry has been done for a while now,” Stiles smiles almost sadly, “I should probably get back home and get out of your hair.”

“Dearest, don’t you think that if I wanted you out of my hair, I would done it already?” Peter slides gracefully into Stiles’ space and strokes the boy’s arm, trailing upwards to run his strong fingers through the hair at the nape of his beautiful, pale neck. Stiles feels his eyes begin to close and he struggles to string a single thought together. Peter observes with unrelenting intensity. He absolutely loves the way the boy’s body goes completely slack and he could scream at Deucalion for not knowing what gem he had found. Like a diamond in the rough, Stiles is absolutely beautiful. 

“Stay a little longer, I can’t bear to part with you just yet.” Peter’s voice floats through the air like a whisper, like a siren’s song and Stiles is powerless to say no. He feels full, warm, and so well cared for. Dessert is just the cherry on top of another wonderful night with Peter Hale and Stiles doesn’t want to leave this couch, or Peter’s presence just yet. So he nods and pretty much slumps into Peter’s waiting embrace, happy to be waited on for as long as he can.


	4. Together again

Stiles wakes up to a phone call, it’s 1:26 AM and the name reads Daddy. He immediately feels sick and he knows better than to wait too long to answer the call.

“ _Stiles_ ,” His daddy’s voice rings like a death knell, “ _I would like you to come over immediately. I am sending a driver to pick you up in twenty minutes. You already know how I expect you to present yourself.”_

Yeah, Stiles knows. Scrubbed clean, zero hair anywhere, and no glasses. Deucalion likes him to be absolutely clean, inside and out. It’s annoying and Stiles hates having to shave, he gets itchy in two days when it grows back. He’s still trying to wake up but he knows that the only reason Deucalion is calling for a late night booty call is because all his other options didn’t pan out. Stiles is the bottom of the barrel for him. He hadn’t bothered calling Stiles since the benefit dinner nearly a month ago and now all of a sudden the man is wanting him to spread his legs. Stiles is thinking about all the work he would have to do and the meager four hundred dollars that Deucalion would inevitably pay him. Then Stiles thinks about Peter. He thinks about how good Peter makes him feel and about how shitty Deucalion makes him feel. He thinks about everything he’s done to fulfill his contract with Deucalion and how much he wishes he could be free. He’s going to be free.

“Listen, Deucalion, I haven’t heard from you in a while and I think it’s time that we break our contract.” Stiles swallows thickly, hoping that there won’t be much of a fight on the other end. The line is silent for a moment as Deucalion wraps his mind around what Stiles just told him. He had a stressful day at the office and he had tried to get his usual women for a little bit of relaxation. Sadly, all his options were exhausted and he had no choice but to call Stiles. Now he’s being told no again and that there will no longer be a contract. 

That’s not alright with him. The thought of having to find another sugar baby is exhausting and he would rather not. The boy had never been grateful of anything he’d given him. Stiles was always quite rude and never followed instructions. He doesn’t remember why he even kept Stiles on the payroll. Stiles never appreciated anything he’d done for him. Thousands of dollars in tuition for Stiles to just drop him whenever he felt like? 

_“If you think that you are just going to walk away after I’ve already paid this semester’s tuition for you, as well as all your previous semesters. These past years have not been a free ride, Mr. Stilinski. You will pay me back ever cent you borrowed from me, which is quite a lot if you ask me.”_ Deucalion’s tone turns dark and it sends Stiles into a panic, _“I expect you to be at my door within the hour or I will take legal action against you. Do you understand?”_

“Yes.” Stiles feels beaten down and destroyed. He feels used and dirty. He feels like trash. There is no way out of this. So he agrees and goes to shower and shave. He can’t pick out one emotion from the waves of hurt, anger, roaring sadness, and a million other things he feels. _Just get through tonight_ , Stiles thinks. He follows Deucalion’s instructions because he knows the man is not filled with idle threats. 

He just has to get through this. 

He just has to get through this.

. . .

Peter begins to worry after ten days of no contact. Stiles has ignored his texts, his calls and it’s beginning to be concerning. Peter decides he needs to be a little more direct. So he stops at the best florist on the Upper East Side and buys the brightest roses he can. Turning up at Stiles’ apartment at the end of the boy’s day when he knows he’s home and he prepares for the worst. When Stiles opens the door, Peter is shocked. The boy’s eyes are sunken in he’s thinner than he had been when they first met. When he opens the door, Stiles reeks of sadness and Peter can see the barely restrained panic in his whiskey eyes.

Stiles had hoped the older man would get the hint after the first week of ignoring his texts, but the man kept calling and all it did was stab Stiles in the heart each time he had to see his name pop up on his phone. He didn’t have the heart to block Peter, and he found himself listening to Peter’s messages every night until he falls asleep, which isn’t something he manages easily. Stiles sees Peter on his doorstep with a bouquet of amazing flowers, he can smell their scent a few feet away. They’re beautiful and Peter is romantic and Stiles is ugly. He immediately thinks about the bruise around his forearms and thighs. Deucalion has been rough, more rough than Stiles is used to but not more than he can handle. It’s been a painful ten days, Deucalion has requested his services every oter night and it’s always with a smirk because Deucalion knows exactly what he’s doing to Stiles. He’s proving that he can do whatever he wants whenever he wants to Stiles.

“Stiles,” Peter smiles his hundred-wat smile, hoping to dazzle the boy. Stiles just looks tired, and it takes everything inside Peter not to envelop him in a hug.

“What are you doing here, Peter?” Stiles whispers. He sounds so resigned. Disheartened. 

“I was worried, I wanted to come see you.” Peter hands Stiles the flowers and takes a quick look inside the small apartment, there’s not a speck of dirt to be seen. It’s like Stiles has been cleaning obsessively nonstop.   
“Peter, this isn’t a good time-”

“Please, I just want to make sure you’re alright, and judging by appearances and that rather nasty looking bruise. . .you’re in need of a little assistance.” Peter urges. He sees the hand shaped, dark purple bruises on his forearms. He desperately needs to know that Stiles is alright. The boy, desperate for a friendly touch, or a gentle conversation, lets Peter into his home. He accepts the roses and brings the man into his home. 

“Peter-”

“Stiles, I need to be completely honest with you now,” Peter says, “The night we met, I knew the nature of your relationship with Deucalion.”

Stiles’ fingers drop the vase he was putting his roses in and the boy gasps. The fine tether in his mind that was keeping him together frayed and he felt like he was slipping. The shattering of glass had Peter startled. Stiles’ breathing begins to labor and he feels dizzy. He takes a step and sharp shards of glass cut into his bare feet. Peter is at his side in an instant, taking the flowers out of his hand and placing them on the counter. Glass crunches under his shoes as he slips his arms under the boy. Stiles grasps at his hair, tears running down his face and he gasps for air.

“Stiles,” Peter takes him to the bed and sits with the boy in his arms, holding him tightly, “Darling, just breathe with me-”

Stiles can’t hear him. He can’t hear anything but a sharp ringing in his ears and he’s too scattered to put thoughts together. Peter sees the boy begin to become hysterical and he stops trying to reign the boy’s panic attack in and places his lips against Stiles’. It wasn’t the first kiss he was hoping for, but it was sweet nonetheless. Stiles’ breathing is halted and his eyes fall shut. He feels tired and week, his heart still speeding painfully in his chest, but he’s brought out of his panic and Peter managed to pump the breaks. 

“Stiles, listen to me, I’ll hold you as long as you want. You don’t have to talk or do anything. Just know that I’m here, and I don’t think less of you.” Peter whispers into chestnut locks, “When you’re ready, we’ll talk about this because it’s not okay. This isn’t healthy, how he treats you is abusive and I won’t let it continue. Take the time you need and we’ll stay like this.”

Stiles’ eyes close and he melts into Peter’s embrace, his body and mind still coming back to Earth. He doesn’t register the pain in his foot or the blood that’s been falling. As the adrenaline subsides, Stiles becomes increasingly aware of the pain in his foot. Eventually, the pleasure of being held is overwhelmed by the pain and he has to deal with it. He sniffles pitifully and tries to get his voice working again.

“My foot hurts,” Is what he manages to say with a scratchy voice. Peter nods and asks for a first-aid kit. It’s under the sink, and the older man places Stiles on the bed to clean up the blood and injured appendage. Peter holds up his foot and examines it, saying nothing until Stiles has the courage to speak. He works in silence, pulling glass shards out of the boy’s foot and drying blood. Stiles doesn’t wince or give away that he’s in pain more than saying he is. Peter hates that.

“Deucalion. . .” Stiles tries. He tries so hard to open up, to speak about what he’s going through, but he’s scared that Peter is going to judge him for it. How could Peter possibly understand? “He’s been paying my tuition since my sophomore year.”

“That doesn’t entitle the man to hurt you.” Peter almost growls.

“He owns me, Peter.” Stiles whispers. He sounds so despondent, it breaks Peter’s heart, “In exchange for attending functions with him and the occasional. . .late night summons, he paid for my schooling.”

“He does not own you, darling boy, you made a contract and you’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain. Now, he’s exacting power over you that he doesn’t possess.” Peter tries to soothe the boy but Stiles is starting to disappear in his sadness.

“He has called on me almost every night for ten days,” Stiles whimpers, “I can’t do this anymore. I hate him. I hate myself.”

“Darling boy,” Peter finishes wrapping his foot and moves to spoon the boy, “He had no right to do this to ou, you don’t deserve to be treated like this. Deucalion has no idea how to treat a sugar baby and he’s been mistreating you for far too long.”

“I signed up for this,” Stiles cries, “I chose this. I could have gotten a job, I could have-”

“Baby, listen to me when I tell you that you did not sign up for this. No one signs up to be abused.” Peter practically growls. Stiles’ silent tears burn where they fall against his chest and he wants nothing more than to destroy Deucalion in that moment, but he knows that he’ll have to wait to put all of his resources to breaking Stiles away from his abuser.

“I’m sorry Peter,” Stiles cries, “I tried to say no. I tried to get away from him but he threatened to expose me to the school board for extorting money, he said he’d ruin me. I-I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to-”

Peter had heard enough and he couldn’t handle his boy’s sadness and pain another moment. He held on tight to the shaking baby in his arms and kissed his hair. He tried to console Stiles while plotting to take Deucalion for everything he’s got. How dare he take advantage of Stiles. How dare he rape and take everything from the boy who only needed help and only wanted love. The boy submitted so easily to Peter’s touch, to his easy ministrations and absolutely soaked in all the love that Peter was offering. 

“Stiles, baby, I promise you that you will not have to be in that man’s presence ever again.” Peter’s voice is low and Stiles can barely hear the promise he makes over the pounding in his ears and the exhaustion that is closing in. He trusts Peter. Subconsciously, Stiles knows that nothing bad is going to happen with Peter taking control, “Let me take care of you?” 

Stiles nods and sinks further into the warm darkness that beckons him, inhaling Peter’s intoxicating scent is what sends him off the edge and he’s fallen into a sleep that has alluded him for so long. He’s exhausted and he’s safe in Peter’s arms. Safe to sleep. Safe to heal.

“I’ll kill him,” Peter whispers into Stiles’ hair, “Deucalion will know pain for what he’s done.”

A dark promise is made but Peter is willing to cross every line for this perfect boy.

  
  


. . .

Peter brought Stiles back to his apartment. The boy had pretty much made a home for himself on Peter’s couch. Stiles is on Thanksgiving break for a few days and he couldn’t make it back home. It killed Stiles not to be with his father for the holiday but he knows that Melissa is going to take good care of his father. For the moment, Stiles is laying in a paid of Peter’s comfiest designer sweat pants, wrapped in the fluffiest blanket he has ever felt. 

Peter left Stiles with all the snacks he could possibly want, free reign of the apartment and a promise to return with pizza in three hours. It’s been two hours and Stiles is still in the same spot. Even though the couch is the most comfortable couch he’s ever lounged on, his knees ache from being scrunched up. He gets up from the couch, shrouded in fluffy blanket, and searches for a better place to lounge. He opens doors in Peter’s apartment, feeling only a little guilty, but Peter gave him free reign. Stiles eventually opens the right door and a lavish bedroom reveals itself like the holy grail. The expansive king mattress with dark charcoal colored sheets beacons him like a siren song. The room smells like Peter’s cologne and he can’t help but curl like a kitten in the man’s sheets. Stiles groans at the plush mattress enveloping his body. He finds a remote by the bed and begins hitting buttons. Blackout screens cover the windows, blocking out the light and a fireplace lights instantly. 

Stiles groans and feels like rolling around. He’s insanely comfortable, _it should be illegal to be this comfortable,_ Stiles thinks. He settles in and turns on the TV to see what Peter’s got. He finds 20/20 on Peter’s recordings and begins watching them. He doesn’t get far into it because the combined scent of Peter and the warmth he feels enveloping him sends him into a deep sleep. He wonders what Peter is doing.

Peter has his best junior executives out gathering information on Deucalion and all of his resources extended to digging up skeletons in the man’s closet. It doesn’t matter that it was nearly two days ago that he had brought Stiles home, every time he closed his eyes he saw Stiles crying and desperate. Stiles refused to move from the couch and was slowly coming out of his depression. It broke his heart to see Stiles like that and he had immediately set his associates to work the moment he got back to work. He hated leaving Stiles alone but it was necessary and he spent every night holding Stiles, feeding him, and talking to him until he fell asleep in a comfortable, warm, safe space. Stiles was beginning to come around and the light in his eyes was beginning to come back. 

He’s typing furiously at his computer, having just gotten off of the phone with his best PI. He put everyone at his disposal into the investigation against Deucalion. At the end of the day with still no word from anyone, he decided to call it and go home. He missed Stiles anyways and he wanted to surprise the boy. Peter had reached out to his father and offered to fly him out to be with Stiles over the holiday. The sheriff was eager to take a few days off and be with his son, he’d been hesitant to accept Peter’s help in paying for the plane ticket as well as letting the man stay in his guestroom, but he accepted when he pressed the Sheriff more. He had more than enough money to be generous. The man agreed to fly out and Peter checks his phone, the sheriff’s flight is landing in another hour, just enough time for him to finish things up here and drive to LaGuardia. 

Peter hasn’t had an honest to God Thanksgiving in years. He’d stopped going back home in favor of flying out for Christmas and powering through cases. It’s been a while since he’s had friends to celebrate with and he’s excited to see Stiles happy for the first time in a long time. He quickly makes his way to his car and makes the drive to LaGuardia. He hadn’t seen the sheriff in a long time, it was years ago that he had even been in the same social circle as the man. When Peter thinks about the amazing coincidence that he and Stiles are from the same town, it blows his mind. 

Sheriff John Stilinski has always been a stern man, traditional in his views, and often very black-and-white. He’d been hardened by an abusive father, softened by the love of his life, then frozen over again by her death. He nearly lost himself in her death but his son pulled him out of it and the two grew up thick as thieves. John lived for his son. When Stiles had come out to him when he was fifteen, it had been a shock and it rocked the man’s world but he didn’t blink an eye. He loved Stiles more than anything, and even though he feared for Stiles’ happiness, he would never turn away from his son. Gay or not. When he’d received a call from Peter Hale, he’d been surprised. It’d been years since he’d attended the mayor’s inauguration dinner and her brother was in attendance. He’d shared maybe one conversation with the man and receiving a random call from the man was worrisome. He’d explained he’d run into Stiles in New York and his boy had gotten into a spot of trouble with an ex-boyfriend. His immediate response was anger. His son had been trying to dodge his abuser and was being tormented? 

John was ready to fight. 

Peter assured him that he’d taken his boy in. Peter had been completely honest with John, and that was entirely appreciated. Despite being nearly fourteen years older than his son, he’d taken in interest in Stiles and they’d begun a relationship before Stiles’ ex came back into the picture and fearing for Stiles’ safety, he’d taken his son in and kept him safe. John wasn’t happy with the age difference, but the Hales are a good family and Peter had shot straight from the beginning so he’d cut the man some slack. When Peter wanted to fly him out for Thanksgiving, he’d been opposed to the idea but Peter told him that Stiles is not in a good place and needs his father. How could he object? Next thing he knew, he was taking a few days off for the holidays to go see his son and he had a first class plane ticket in his inbox in the next few minutes after hanging up with Peter. John wasn’t on board with Peter paying for the whole trip but he’d bent when Peter wouldn’t take no for an answer. He just wanted to see his son, and if this is how it was going to be done, then so be it.

John was standing outside of LaGuardia with his duffel bag, looking like a minimalist and Peter spotted him immediately. Definitely not a New Yorker. Conversation was pleasant and John wanted to know more about the situation with his son. Peter was happy to oblige and they spoke about Deucalion with anger in their hearts and hate on their tongues. It filled John’s heart with admiration that Peter hated the man for hurting his son just as much as he did and it only helped the man’s situation with his son. John knows Peter was very wealthy and despite being a defense attorney, John knows Peter is a good man. When they reached his apartment, John was practically running in to see his son. 

Peter had been smart enough to shoot Stiles a text to prepare the boy, telling Stiles to be dressed and ready, he has a surprise for the boy. When they enter the apartment, Stiles is walking around with Peter’s throw blanket around his shoulders and barefoot. It makes Peter smile and his belly fill with warmth at the sight of the boy comfortable in his home. It felt like a home with Stiles here. The boy’s eyes go comically wide for a moment before filling with tears and he races to hug his father. John catches his son, holding on to the younger man like a lifeline. They laughed with tears in their eyes and Peter moves out of the way, taking the Sheriff’s bag to the spare bedroom to give the two men privacy. Peter smiles to himself, feeling like he had done something wonderful and that finally, he was satisfied. The desire to care for the boy ran so deep and even keeping the boy safe and feeding him wasn’t enough. However, reuniting the boy with his father was more than enough and he finally feels that Stiles is taken care of.

Stiles feels like his whole world is beginning to piece itself together with his father there holding him. He cries into his father’s shoulder, crying how sorry he is, how he messed up. John only holds his son tighter and tells his son that he’s okay, that everything will be okay and that it’s not his fault. His son is whacked with relief and absolution.

John has never wanted to kill someone so badly, but he’ll kill the man who hurt his boy.


End file.
